


Hostess and Host

by filthybonnet



Category: Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Clannibal, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Handcuffs, Oral Sex, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 02:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthybonnet/pseuds/filthybonnet
Summary: The morning after one of their large dinner parties, Clarice and Hannibal wake up in completely different moods with completely different interpretations on the previous night's events.  It will take heated words and actions for the two to reach agreement.





	Hostess and Host

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are new to my works or might not remember, Charlotte is the alias I have Clarice use post-canon throughout my fics. It's been over 6 months since I've written some good ole clannibal smut and I was feeling rusty writing this. I hope you all enjoy it.

Clarice Starling heard the faint sound clanking of plates from downstairs. She rubbed her eyes before slowly opening them; sunlight breaking slightly through their blinds. It must have been around noon if not after, their dinner party ran later than usual, “Hannibal, we should get up.”

Starling felt Hannibal stir behind her. He nuzzled her neck and pulled her close to him as she moved to sit up. 

“You’re hard,” she turned and spoke over her shoulder.

“Nocturnal penile tumescence; it means a man’s sexual organs are completely healthy and functional; impressive for a man my age.”

“Ah yes, nothing like medical jargon in the morning. Your stamina alone tells me you are healthy.”

“How about both?” Under the covers The Doctor ran his hand down the curves of her body, fingers caressing her thighs, working up to the bottom of her powder pink silk tap pants.

“I already told you we should get up, Hannibal,” Clarice moved closer to the edge of the bed.

He rolled so his torso pinned her to the bed, “Why are you in such a hurry to get up, Clarice?” 

His navy blue silk pajama top hung down from his neck. Clarice reached up and played with the exposed tuffs of his chest hair, “We need to clean up dining room table.”

“Then why are we paying servants?” Hannibal moved his legs so he was straddling Clarice, his erection pushing into her loins.

“Not to clean up messes that large.”

The Good Doctor leaned in, lightly kissing her cheek before moving down her jawline, “Well then we’ll just have to pay them extra.”

“And what about Sophia’s clutch?”

“What about it?” His lips trailed down her neck. “You sure are demure this morning Special Agent Starling.”

“No ‘Ex?’ Perhaps I should get out the handcuffs? You sure deserve them for being an ass at the party last night. And not in that way. You’re going to have earn that,” Her eyes met his maroon ones, her fingers leaving his chest hair, firmly grabbing the lapel of his shirt.

“Since when do I have to earn ‘it,’ Clarice?” Hannibal tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. “Relationships lacking trust and communication withhold sex as a means to an end. And that isn’t the type of relationship we have.”

“Then think, my dear doctor, what did you do to make an ass of yourself last night?” 

“I might have had too much wine and called you Clarice. And somebody might have heard it,” He pushed one of the straps of her matching camisole off her shoulder and kissed her collarbone.

“Might?” Clarice removed her hands and pushed her strap back up and his lips away. “And you just _might_ have an erection right now.”

“I wouldn’t worry, they were all drunk too…” His hands ran up her sides stopping at her breasts, bringing his mouth into hers.

“I’m going to have to do something,” Clarice placed her fingers over his mouth, “Something drastic, domestic bliss has made you complacent, Hannibal Lecter. We don’t need them remembering and questioning us at a later date.”

He pushed her hand away, “We can always say it is your middle name…Charlotte Clarice.”

She frowned, “I’m serious. I have never seen you drink so much wine.”

“And until that moment I had never seen you so happy playing the part of hostess.”

Clarice furrowed her brows. He was right; she loved playing hostess. She had read so much about his lavish dinner parties in the days before his incarceration, in the days before she knew him. Not in her wildest dreams had she thought she would be at his side hosting them. She did not break eye contact with him, to do so would admit weakness.

“If you keep this up, I won’t be able to play hostess."

The Doctor ran his fingers through her hair, “Well seeing as how violently you grabbed the cheese platter and stormed into the kitchen last night, I don’t think I will be asking you to host again.” 

Clarice’s mouth dropped opened in protest but there was a delay. “It needed refilling.”

“Because half the cheese fell onto the table when you grabbed it in a hurry to get away after I said your name. I prefer my hostess to be able to carry dishes correctly.”

From downstairs there was a clash of crystal stemware breaking followed by stream of obscenities and arguments in Spanish

“That is why we should get up. A good hostess would not have left such a mess for the help to break stemware.”

“Are you sure you want a morning frolic with a horrible hostess?”

“Frolic? What an interesting word choice,” Dr. Lecter sat up on his knees at her feet, the comforter rolling down his back. “I don’t believe any of what we’ve done can be considered frolicking.” He put his palms on her hips, slipping his fingers under the waistband of her tap pants, “Though I think with proper reinforcement I correct the actions of my wayward hostess.”

Clarice put her hands on top of his as she bent her knees, “And what shall your wayward hostess do about a host with a slippery tongue?”

“I can think of a few things to do with a slippery tongue,” The Good Doctor leered at her, slowly pulling the tap pants down. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. / I love thee to the depth and breadth and height…” He slipped them over her feet and tossed them over his shoulder. Hannibal moved his hands they were on the insides of her thighs caressing them. “My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight / For the ends of being and ideal grace. / I love thee to the level of every day’s…” 

He paused taking a deep breath to smell her musk. Clarice closed her eyes and sighed, “Elizabeth Barrett Browning instead of Italian. Mmm, that is a slippery tongue.”

Hannibal gently pushed her legs apart as he lowered his body stomach first flat onto the bed, turning his head to kiss her up her right inner thigh before doing the same to her left.

“My Dear Doctor, you seem rather hasty with that slippery tongue.”

His maroon eyes looked up at her over her pubic mound. She could see the smile curl up on his cheeks. 

“My dear _Charlotte_ , I believe in another life there was something Jack Crawford used to say to you when you would make assumptions.”

Clarice threw her head back on the pillows and sighed. 

Hannibal placed a few kisses on top of her pubic mound as his hands pushed her camisole up over her breasts. He trailed his tongue up the center of her stomach, lifting his head up as he approached between her breasts. Starling yanked off her camisole and discarded it. She took The Doctor’s head into her hands guiding his lips to hers. His tongue slipped past her lips as her nimble fingers unbuttoned his top. Under their heavy breaths they could still the light sound of dishes and chatter of the hired help but it was quickly fading to white noise. 

When Lecter pulled away his tongue traveled down to her right breast, it coming to a firm point before circling the areola a few times before lapping at the hard nipple. Clarice moaned softly, “I am an ass to assume you would skip your favorite part of foreplay.”  
Hannibal intertwined his fingers with hers, as he lifted his head, “And what about you?”

She smiled, “I knew what I was getting when I offered.”

He smiled large all his little teeth showing before bending down to repeat his attention to her left breast. He lingered longer her before licking his way back down between her legs. 

“Wider, _Charlotte_ ,” He commanded. 

Clarice moved further down on the bed and opened her legs more. Despite her earlier annoyance and resistance, she felt her wetness as her cunt spread. She always betrayed herself no matter how hard she tried.

“Always eager to compensate for all those years we lost,” Hannibal mostly spoke to himself before running his pointy tongue up and down one lip before doing the same for the other. He swirled it in slow circles at her entrance, her nectar landing on it in little gushes. He sucked it up before moving up to her clit, also circling it with his tongue. 

Clarice sighed loud, it quickly turning to moans as The Good Doctor worked his slippery tongue forceful and faster. She pushed her cunt hard into his face and he took the hint and sucked on her clit. Clarice grabbed her own breasts, twisting her aroused nipples for heightened sensitivity. “Hannibal!” She exclaimed tilting her head up. “Yes, yes! Just like that! Don’t stop!”

She closed her thighs around Hannibal’s face as she came fast and quick, a rush up her spine and the throbs between her leg short and swift. She moaned loud lowering her legs, taking deep breaths. 

Hannibal slowly sat up onto his knees. “For somebody who didn’t want to frolic you sure came quick and hard,” he discarded his shirt. 

Clarice sat up on her knees and smiled to herself upon seeing his face glistening with her juices. “I’ll bet that erection of yours is excruciatingly throbbing by now. Let me take care of that for you.” She pushed him down so that his head was close to the foot of their iron post bed. She yanked away his satin navy blue pajama bottoms and as she did his fully erect cock curved up towards his stomach. 

“Hurry Clarice, I’ve been waiting…” his metallic voice a whisper.

“What did you call me?”

“Charlotte…I mean Charlotte.” 

I believe in another life there was a prisoner who told a very anxious me ‘All good things to those who wait.’”

A visceral growl escaped Hannibal’s throat as he closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.

What the impatient Doctor hadn’t noticed was how swift The Ex Agent had removed her handcuffs from the dresser drawer. She climbed on top allowing her wet cunt to graze his cock, just enough distraction. His hands were around of the iron rods and it was followed by cold metal against his wrists and clicks.

Hannibal’s eyes flew open the reds devouring Clarice, “What is the meaning of this?”

“A reminder,” She held his cheek. “Of what could happen when you become complacent.” 

She guided his dick up inside her and rock up and down on him slowly. The Ex Agent leered at him, “Push up to go faster and I just might lose my balance because I’m not bracing myself.”

The handcuffs rattled against the bar, his breathing becoming shallow and fast. He was speechless, his clever girl was full of surprises. While he could not push up and down inside her, he moved his body to and fro against the sheets even though it was out of rhythm with her. 

Starling stopped moving. She leaned over, placing her hands firmly on the bed, on both sides of The Doctor, “I think I’ll give you want you want.” Clarice started moving a fast up and down rhythm on Hannibal’s dick.

The Good Doctor watched her for a bit, her breasts bouncing up and down, her hair waving in multiple directions. “Oh…Oh...” He moaned his eyes closing, the handcuffs rattling again. 

Clarice felt herself building towards another orgasm, but she knew at this point Hannibal wasn’t going to be a gentleman and let her have it. She would have to take it. She whimpered slamming down on him harder and faster. She squeezed her wet cunt tight around his cock. Visceral groans and grunts escaped his lips before he bit them as the muscles in his face contorted. A few seconds later they all relaxed, his closed eyes fluttering, a great sigh fleeing his mouth. His chested continued to rise and fall with shallow breaths. Starling knew Her Doctor, he’d reached his climate, but she didn’t stop. 

She moved back and forth quick on him, allowing his pubic bone to press into her clit. Hannibal opened his eyes, “Selfish, are we? Let me help. I’ve already spilled and while I’m healthy and functional my turn around isn’t what it used to be.”

He pushed up his crotch up into her allowing more pubic bone to be exposed to her. She pushed in harder as she clamped down around his dick. “Oh…Oh…Hannibal…” she moaned softly. The tingling between her thighs quickly gave way to short intense waves of pleasure, so much her cunt pushed out Hannibal’s now semi-flaccid cock.

Starling collapsed onto of Hannibal’s body, straddling him, giggling as she rested her head on his chest. 

“And just what is so amusing, Clarice?”

“Nothing, just enjoying the afterglow of a good fuck I didn’t want,” She traced his scarred nipple, the one that was damaged by the branding rod that fateful night at that Verger farm. “The smell of your sweat mixed with your musk. The sound of our heartbeats slowing. The feel of your cum trickling out of me.” She sat up and smiled large at him, “This new wonderful sight of you cuffed to the bed like the common criminal you are.”

The Good Doctor tugged against the iron rod, the metal against metal loud. “I am not a common criminal, Clarice and you know it!”

She kissed him passionately. 

“The key, Clarice,” he whispered pulling away.

“In a minute. You were the one who was in no hurry to get out of bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal quotes the 1st stanza from "Sonnet 43 (How Do I Love Thee?)" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from her collection of poetry titled "Sonnets from the Portuguese." It is her most famous poem. 
> 
> How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.  
> I love thee to the depth and breadth and height  
> My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
> For the ends of being and ideal grace.  
> I love thee to the level of every day’s  
> Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.  
> I love thee freely, as men strive for right;  
> I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.  
> I love thee with the passion put to use  
> In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.  
> I love thee with a love I seemed to lose  
> With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,  
> Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,  
> I shall but love thee better after death.


End file.
